


the ghosts in my head

by folkinround



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folkinround/pseuds/folkinround
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Jim, now, was that Sebastian never knew what to expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the ghosts in my head

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn't be doing this, but this had been sitting unfinished in my HD for a while, and I needed a break from studying, so here it is. Unbeta'd, and I'm sorry for any mistakes I might have let pass. Title's from Mumford & Sons' Lover's Eyes.

The thing about Jim, now, was that Sebastian never knew what to expect.

 

He tried to argue with himself, claiming that he’d _never_ known what to expect from Jim, not even before they started with this thing they had now (and Sebastian still couldn’t label it, not even in his head), but it still felt like it was easier before. And now Sebastian recalled every text he’d received in the last twenty minutes and tried to predict what he was going to find at home.

 

He could sometimes come home to find Jim on the couch or in his office, absorbed in something and not even bothering to acknowledge the sniper’s presence, while other times he’d get a hum or a grunt of acknowledgement, to his luck or dismay. Sometimes he’d have him talking nonstop, plotting and lying out schedules for Sebastian to follow, a good or a (and God forbid, those were the worst, most unpredictable ones) bad mood, which could have him throwing things at Sebastian until he left again, or pressing him up against the wall with kisses and touches that would lead to them fucking on the couch, on the floor, on Sebastian’s bed.

 

This time didn’t seem like any of those, though, and the only thing Sebastian expected was Jim to be at least in a sour mood as he slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

 

“Jim,” he called. “I’m back.”

 

Jim was sitting cross-legged on his favourite spot on the couch with a cold cup of tea sitting untouched at his side on the armrest. He had that air of fake-boredom he usually assumed when he was irked at Sebastian for some reason, and his back straightened immediately after the sniper stepped into the living-room. He stopped his typing, but kept his eyes glued to his laptop screen.

 

“Well, don’t expect me to jump you in excitment,” he commented after a moment, fingers pressing into the keyboard as he resumed his previous activity.

 

Sebastian sighed, rubbing his thumbs against his temples. A grumpy Jim was always difficult, petty and a picking at each and every one of Sebastian’s actions in a way that drove him mad.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, choosing to pretend he didn’t recognise the signs, and Jim shook his head, finally lifting his eyes so he could look at the sniper.

 

“Stop trying to mother me, Sebastian,” he warned, although his tone carried that same hint of fake-boredom as well. He knitted his eyebrows together in a defiant expression when Sebastian sighed again, watched as he turned his back and headed for the kitchen without an answer. Jim stood up and followed a moment later, carrying his neglected cup of tea with him. “I’m not going to eat now, no matter what you make,” he added stubbornly, placing the cup on the sink.

 

Frowning, Sebastian turned to face him and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why not?” he asked, leaning back against the counter with a tired expression, watching him with weary eyes.

 

“Because,” Jim said, and sounded rather childish, although Sebastian didn’t point it out. He picked the cup back up and emptied its contents on the sink, watching the liquid flow down with bored, mild fascination.

 

Sebastian watched him quietly, examining his features with a certain level of intent.

 

“Whatever are you looking at?” Jim then asked, furrowing his brow and mirroring Sebastian’s posture, arms crossed as well.

 

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging defensively.

 

Jim watched him with doubtful eyes, but if he didn’t believe it, he also didn’t press it any further. A short moment of silence passed between them, in which he kept his eyes on Sebastian, and then he twisted his lips, seeming defeated as he puffed out a breath and finally said, “C’mere.”

 

Frowning once again, Sebastian obeyed and stepped closer to the shorter man, aware that Jim could do practically anything, he never knew. “What is it?” he asked, eyes watching him with something akin to curiosity.

 

“I said come _here,_ ” Jim repeated, half-whispering. His fingers found Sebastian’s belt loops and curled around them, tugging at them to pull the sniper closer, to which Sebastian didn’t protest and went, pressing softly against Jim, half-pining him to the kitchen counter. “That’s better,” Jim added, voice only a whisper now. His hands quickly found their way up to the back of Sebastian’s neck, fingers tangling on his hair. Then, just as quickly, he licked his lips and pressed them against Sebastian’s.

 

Sebastian pressed back into the kiss instinctively, and that was all that Jim seemed to need to deepen it, tongue sliding into Sebastian’s mouth promptly. Sebastian brought one hand down to Jim’s hip and slid the other under his shirt, his cool fingers contrasting with the warmth of Jim’s lower back. That made Jim hum into the kiss and part his legs a bit, allowing Sebastian to settle between them, which he did, earning himself a tiny moan from Jim as he pressed flush against him.

 

And now _that,_ Sebastian thought, that was kind of new, different from the usual spur-of-the-moment touches they’d usually share, in which Jim would be all teeth and tongue, always struggling to be in control. Not now, though, this time he just sort of gave in, parted his lips and legs and allowed Sebastian to take the lead.

 

And Sebastian took advantage of it, broke away from the kiss with a tug at Jim’s lower lip, then slid his mouth down to his neck. Jim chuckled breathlessly, half-moaning when he felt the wet, hot presence of Sebastian’s lips and tongue on his neck and then down further to the hollow of his throat, his collarbones.

 

“Easy, Tiger,” he warned, though, voice a bit hoarse, and Sebastian stopped, looking up at him.  And it was all gone in a moment. “Tired,” he said. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

 _Well, of course_ , Sebastian thought and stood up, trying to hide the disappointment he felt as he followed Jim down the corridor and into his bedroom.

 

He shrugged off his jacket once there, kicked off his shoes and climbed on top of Jim in the bed, though. Jim let him and smiled at him in the dark, lifted his head just slightly and kissed the corner of Sebastian’s mouth. “Kiss me like that again,” he asked, very, very softly, though his tone didn’t lose that hint of a demand it usually had.

 

Again, Sebastian obeyed, not having anything else he could do, and kissed him, though he let Jim control the pace, keep it slow and tender, lacking the usual hard urgency of his kisses. Jim curled his arms around Sebastian’s neck and held on to him, kept going back to kissing whenever Sebastian so much as paused briefly to catch his breath.

 

They kept kissing and touching lazily until it became just a soft brush of lips, Jim way too tired to press it any further, humming contently at Sebastian tangled his fingers in his hair.

 

“Go to sleep, Jim,” he said softly, carding his fingers through Jim’s soft and a bit too long hair.

 

“Mmyeah,” Jim hummed, eyes already closed. “Keep doing that,” he added, though, when Sebastian hinted at wanting to remove his hand from his hair.

 

Sebastian sighed, feeling Jim warm and comfortable underneath him, arms wrapped lazily around his waist. He half-buried his nose on Jim’s hair and breathed in. “Yeah, babe,” he said, and kept on.


End file.
